


Lockup

by Menirva



Series: Blend [4]
Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Chastity Device, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Phone Sex, Prostate Milking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:10:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menirva/pseuds/Menirva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barsad is assigned to a mission far from their home. Bane gives him a constant reminder of who he belongs to even while he is away.</p><p>Set Pre-Blend verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Barsad had thought it a joke. How could it not have been? Something whispered playfully in the dark while he settled in Bane's arms days before a mission that would keep them far apart, nothing more.

"I should keep you locked up for me, safe and sound until I can see to you again."

He had snorted, swatted at Bane's hand when he fondled over him teasingly, thinking that that had to be the end of it.

But now Bane was settled into him, heavy mass pinning his rather spent body to the bed with care, a cool cloth running down his chest, his ass feeling wonderfully used and sore. The ropes lay coiled carefully at the corner of the bed, and there would be no more fight in him tonight.

"I obtained it."

Barsad made a tired, questioning sound, blue eyes that had been lidded heavily with satisfaction suddenly flickered open in surprise when Bane set a small box on his lap.

"What have you done?" He, of course, did not have a slight waver of concern to his tone as he reached to snap open the cardboard lid with his thumb. If he did, it was certainly only because Bane could not have been seriously considering locking up his dick for months on a mission, like a fair maiden in a chastity belt. 

The very idea nearly made a flush rise to his neck.

But there nestled into the box was a device of heavy plastic that could only have one intention, a slit in the tip so he could piss, clearly meant for long wear, for months of separation.

He didn't touch it, his eyes staring into Bane’s. His lip curled. He hated how Bane always managed to push him out of his element with ease, surprise him as no other could.

"You do not think me faithful," he finally said, feeling his stomach twist at the idea, not angry but upset with himself that he had somehow presented Bane with the idea that he would ever sleep with another without his knowledge or permission.

Bane's thumb slid across his lip suddenly, a gentle caress of a kiss that never failed to make his lips tingle.

"You misunderstand. I do not doubt you, lamb. I would never. It is merely the idea that entices me, that knowledge that this will be on you at all times, that you will think about it often, whenever you feel yourself try to harden, whenever you need to urinate, you will feel the control I have over your body even when I am hundreds of miles from it, and you will remember what is waiting for you when you come back safely to me."

A heated shiver ran down his body at Bane's earnest words. His cock gave a noble effort of twitching, even spent, and from the look in Bane's eyes suddenly, the satisfaction, his brother knew that he had him.

He knew once it had been put into place that he would regret it. It was not uncomfortable per se. In fact, much to his chagrin, after Bane had slipped him into it, carefully slid the ring under his balls to keep him locked in place, snapped the lock closed, it actually fit under cargo pants with ease, not at all noticeable like he had feared. He grunted when Bane touched him through his pants, fondling the plastic and giving him a fond look.

"If the men see—"

"You know how to conceal the bruises and rope burns I leave on you well enough. You will handle this with ease."

It had been his last hope to get out of this truly cruel treatment, and with Bane's honest words, his shoulders nearly slumped. He refused to let them, though, for Bane to see just how much his little game would affect him. It was not as though he would ever sleep around, but it was a common practice for his hand to find its way into his pants at the end of a long day when Bane was not there, to rub out some of his built-up frustrations while he thought of his lover. He would have to tamp down on such urges, now.

His hand still managed to creep down his body each night as if of its own volition, his teeth clicking together when his nails tapped over the hard plastic as if each time it was a new discovery. It had been several weeks now, and he could feel desire slowly building up inside of himself. His body had attempted 'morning wood' on quite a few wakings, now. The results had been uncomfortable and had made him ache in more ways than one.

He could break it off, try to find a new one and replace it before he returned home. It was a desperate thought he had one night while squirming in his cot, and even before he had finished having it, he’d known he would not. He could not break Bane's trust in such a way. Oh the frustration, though. He felt it whenever he felt his body shift, when there was the brush of his pants against the hard plastic. He felt his skin prickle in a way that had nothing to do with heat. When he showered, he would glance down at himself and swear ‘never again’, promising himself he would curse Bane out the moment they were alone, demand he take it off.

By the time a month passed, he felt desperate. The mission was not complete, though; there were several more weeks needed, and he did not know how Bane expected him to last. He had not spoken to him at all, not a word, but now there was time for a pause in routine, an opening that he took instantly, snatching up one of the satellite phones and returning to his cot for the evening. The air in his small, cramped room was chilly, but he was the only man afforded such luxury as a private room, so it was not looked down on, in fact, in that moment, it was quite a blessing. 

He slipped out of his uniform, boots neatly lined up beside the cot, clothes neatly folded and his vest laid over top. He was bare and yet not. When he was naked like this, save for plastic encasing him, he somehow felt even more nude, more exposed, and if he did not swallow it back, he would have to deal with the slow rush of red that crept up his throat. Instead, he slid under the thick, gray blanket he had laid out that morning, his body heat quickly warming it.

Barsad's fingers touched over the phone buttons, the number known by heart. He took a moment to calm himself before pressing send. Bane required... careful handling when he was stubborn, and if he did not tread carefully, there would be no way he could convince him of an early release. The idea itself was embarrassing, requesting to have his own cock to touch.

“Brother.” Barsad kept his voice formal, serious, even though, beyond his predicament, he did miss Bane, wanted to be by his side. It was hard to keep every trace of warmness from his tone even in the cold air, and he suspected Bane could hear it creeping into his voice.

“Lamb, it is good to hear from you. You have called to report personally? There is no need.”

Barsad nearly faltered. He was well aware that he never called Bane during missions. Messages were always relayed via code for safety’s sake, and he had always pushed off the idea of personal calls. They were not needed. He was not a love sick young boy pining away for a girl back home.

"No," he muttered, feeling ridiculous that he had even made the call now, but he knew he would regret it after if he merely hung up. "I am not calling with information."

There was a long crackle of static over the satellite phone.

"I missed you, as well, lamb."

"That is not why, either!" He hissed it out in annoyance, regretting it the moment it left his tongue. He never hears Bane's voice on missions, so far away, and it was throwing him for a loop, making him feel strange and wistful, ridiculously so, and he had snapped out then to bite it back.

Bane was quiet again, and Barsad felt an apology on his tongue that he could not force out. "What is it, then?"

"I want it off." 

"So you called not to relay information, not because you missed me, but because you wished to make demands of me?"

Barsad's stomach lurched. How had this spiraled out of hand in only a few words? "That is not—I missed—"

"Why do you wish it off?" Bane interrupted his stumbling, and Barsad felt an irrational flush creep up his neck.

He faltered as the question, feeling like his hand was in the cookie jar. "It is uncomfortable," he lied, feeling it squirm in the pit of his stomach.

Bane clicked his tongue, disbelieving. "You have endured this long. Try again."

Barsad gritted his teeth. Why did he think he could lie to Bane? When had that ever worked? He gave up any pretense, spat it out quickly, like ripping off a bandage. "I want to masturbate."

"Much better." Bane sounded approving, and Barsad hated the relief he felt at the tone, like a soothing caress over his skin, assuring that he had not angered his brother with his demand. "Go ahead. No one is stopping you."

"It can come off?" He tried not to sound too hopeful, wondering if he had somehow misunderstood the entire ordeal, had been denying himself for nothing.

"I did not say that."

"I do not—"

"I assume you have lubricant with you?"

Barsad glanced down at the small clear bottle tucked into the folds of his blanket, too smart to lie now, not when he knew Bane had caught him, not when he felt a sense of dread filling his stomach even as his body started to heat up when he began to realize Bane's intentions.

"Yes, but—"

"Are you bare for me?"

He shivered, biting his lip as the reluctant whisper left him. "Yes, brother."

"Good lamb." It was breathed out with affection, and Barsad wondered if Bane had known. If he had known all along that Barsad would break down and call him. "Get comfortable for me. Lie back and spread your thighs as you would if I were there watching."

A whine of protest nearly bubbled out of his lips even as he obeyed the order. 

"Bane—"

"Shhh. Wet your fingers. This is what you wanted, lamb."

"It's not," he whispered into the phone receiver as he snapped open the tube, squeezing some out onto his fingers and rubbing them together slowly, trying to put off the inevitable torture. "I want to come."

"That is not what you asked me for." Bane sounded so reasonable as he said it. It made Barsad want to bite his tongue in two in frustration. "You said you wished to masturbate, and I will help you with that. Close your eyes, touch over your hole for me. Pet nicely, you know how."

He couldn't bite back the whine when he touched over himself obediently. His hole twitched with want the moment he fingers brushed over it, like touching a live wire. There was so much pent up need in him that his entire body was hypersensitive. A rush of breath blew over the phone receiver and he could hear Bane's soft sound of approval from it. He was listening so attentively, and Barsad considered for a moment stopping, pretending, trying to make the right sounds, but he knew Bane would never believe it. He always knew how to draw sounds from him that he could never make on his own.

Now was no exception. He squirmed breathlessly on the sheets as he stroked his fingers over his opening again and again, small circles that made his hips jerk, made his cock try to surge up when it had no hope of doing so, soft and confined and tucked away in safe-keeping for Bane. He knew his brother would never be content with just this, though, not when he knew that he could break him apart even hundreds of miles away.

“Open yourself for me.”

“Bane.” His name was tangled up on his tongue, a plea for mercy.

“Go on, one finger, lamb. Slowly.”

He inched it in, the phone by now only resting by his head on the thin pillow. His hips rolled up slowly, trying to take in more, not caring about what Barsad knew in his mind, that this would never give him relief, that it would make things worse. He pressed deeper, a low moan rumbling from his throat, another finger joining the first as soon as the order crackled through the phone from Bane.

It was overwhelming and confusing. His body wanted, oh god how it wanted. He began to pump his fingers into himself and felt like he was burning up inside, aching for more, aching to be able to just get hard. It was too much and not enough. His free hand flew up towards the phone, a death grip around it when he realized Bane was talking and he couldn't hear him over the tinny speaker. He needed to be able to hear his brother's voice, all of the gentle assurances, the softly spoken praise. He was telling him just how wonderful he sounded, his voice heavy and fond.

“Curl your fingers for me. Rub slowly.”

He did and he nearly choked, spots blazing across his eyes as he clenched them shut and felt a hot throb of need pulse through his body.

“Keep going.”

“I can't. I can't.” He was going to be driven mad from it; just the idea of being forced to play against his prostate further was too much.

“Just a little more for me, lamb. You sound wonderful. You may not miss me, but I have missed you.”

“I-I do miss you. I'm sorry.” He babbled the words out, feeling tight in his chest, feeling empty and lonely and wishing that Bane was there right then, not just to release him and let him come, but to lay beside him, to hold him close, all of those feelings that he locked up tightly for missions—things that made it easier to be cold, to stay weeks longer on them without a second thought to be certain that everything was exactly how he wanted it even though he knew Bane wanted him home—they had all tumbled out of his carefully locked-up shell, and he felt like he had to scramble after them, catch them back up in his hands and shove them back into his chest. Bane wasn't letting him, though, and his hands were busy.

“I know, lamb. I miss you, too.” Barsad felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the fingers inside of himself with those quiet, serious words. “When you come back to me, I am going to hold you close.”

“Will... will you let me come then?” He wished he had pressed his face into the pillow to keep those words from stumbling out, but it was too late and he flushed over the fond sound Bane made.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes,” he gritted out. “I will. I promise I will.”

“Then be good now. Obey.”

It took everything in him to curl his fingers again, to stroke inside of his body for Bane until he was nearly curled into a ball, want making his entire body coiled up with need but there was no outlet, just electrifying sensation licking over every inch of his skin until Bane had finally decided it was enough and he was allowed to stop. Barsad panted, laid out on the bed, his blanket kicked off and covered in a sheen of sweat as he listened to Bane's voice quietly soothing him over the phone.

“Very good, lamb. I am pleased with how well you behaved for me. How soon until you are back in my arms?”

“Two... Two weeks.” His brain felt sluggishly overheated, and he nuzzled into the pillow, wishing it was Bane's chest, body strangely loose and relaxed after the play once he had been able to breathe again, once Bane had assured him what a good job he had done. He was tired, now, and the idea of falling asleep to his voice was a warm and pleasant thought indeed.

“You will call me again in one week, understood? If you are good for me then, as soon as you are home I will lay you out, stroke every inch of my lamb's skin and take you until you scream. If you are not... I will do the same, but I will not remove your belt.”

Barsad swallowed hard, trying to clear his dried out throat, managing to get out a 'yes brother' even as he wondered how he would ever be able to put his body through such a torture again.


	2. Chapter 2

The following week left him in a strange sort of head space. He thought of Bane more, wanted him there, but it was not a distraction, it was a motivation. The infiltration work was set into place now. Barsad had wished to be one of the men undercover, but he was needed at the base, listening to every scrap of information picked up off of the wire. Timing was working out beautifully and he hated when he realized that perhaps he was being calmer, in a better mood during the week, uncertain if it was the phone call that had done such a thing or the promise of the next one. Even the men seemed to be more at ease around him, not unprofessional, but comfortable.

He shot a recruit in the foot just to put a stop to that. Something to remind everyone to not get too cozy, including himself. That evening he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and glanced up at the thick blanket of stars in the sky. It was a beautiful sight, but only something he looked at in passing, his mind already going to his cot, to a satellite phone and Bane's firm commands.

He stalked into the tent, nodding a quick greeting to Kojo who had taken his shift at the headphones, jotting down whatever he thought might be useful as he reclined back in the chair, his feet resting up on the desk.

“Get your oafish feet off of there this instant.”

His words got a lazy chuckle and Kojo's boots shifted on the flimsy wood. “Good evening to you, as well, brother. What brings you here?”

“The satellite phone. Where has it gotten to?”

Kojo lifted a brow and rolled his shoulders. “One of the scouters requested to take it along with them.”

“What?”

“We never use it. They have a loved one who is ill; I saw no harm in it as they are one of the ones wise enough not to do anything stupid with it.”

“You didn't speak with me about it.”

“We never use it, brother. I saw no need.”

Barsad opened his mouth and snapped it shut again with a click of his teeth. Kojo was right. There was no need to tell him. He would have berated him for bothering him over such a trivial matter were it not for this. He stormed out of the tent, instead, well aware that he was leaving behind a confused brother in his wake. His mood was ruined, though. He could not obey his order, could not contact Bane and even the inadvertent disobedience settled into his stomach like a chilly lump. He would not worry; if something were truly wrong, then Bane would know about it through the proper channels, but this? This reeked of Barsad being stubborn when he was not. It simply wasn't fair.

He kicked off his boots, lining them up with his toes before he threw himself onto his cot, feeling tired from the day, unable to focus on anything other than the idea that Bane was waiting for his call.  
Would Bane see this as misbehavior even if he had tried to call? What if he decided it was, and did not let him out when they were finally together again? He shivered under his blankets at the thought. If he was able to be honest, though, that was only a small part of the issue... He missed Bane. Thinking that he was going to be able to speak with him and then the opportunity vanishing left him feeling disappointed inside in a way he tried to shove off as unimportant. He was being ridiculous and sentimental.

He attempted sleep, instead, stared at the inside of his eyeballs for the better part of an hour, frustration sliding and wriggling beneath his skin in a way that made finding rest an impossibility. His hand slid down his body as it often did in such times and he stilled suddenly with the notion that he could behave still. It was not as if he did not know what Bane had wanted from him. He could obey and then report back later, with the hope that his actions would be proof enough that he had not been trying to keep away.

He wriggled out of his pants, fingertips resting wistfully for a moment on the plastic encasing his cock. It took some encouragement. It was harder to motivate himself to self torture without the whisper of Bane's voice in his ear. He let his hands caress over his body, though, his stomach, his thighs, knowing exactly where Bane liked to pet him until he felt his body warming, cautious pleasure creeping up his spine. It took much more to work up towards slicking his fingers, slipping them inside one by one until he was grunting, feeling how his hole gripped greedily around them.

A whimper caught in his throat when he dragged the pads of his fingers over his prostrate. He bit the blankets, hating the sound and not having Bane to focus on. It meant that he could hear every pathetic noise that ripped out of his chest. Did he always sound like this? Did Bane always hear him sound this needy? He felt a flush rise to his chest in mortification at the thought.

He'd set his watch. Without Bane there to tell him when to stop, he hadn't trusted himself with when he was allowed to. He waited for the beep, his breath gasping out in heavy pants. He felt warm wetness leaking from his cock and groaned, looking down in the dark and seeing more then precome dripping out of the slit in the plastic. He was so built up that when he pressed his fingertips inside he saw spots and then a dribble of come pulsed out of him, milked out even while he was trapped away.

He watched it in a morbid fascination, touching again and cursing in the dark at the electric sensation of it. The timer beeped suddenly and he tugged his fingers away, trying to calm his body down once more and feeling strangely content after he caught his breath. He had followed orders even when it had been made more difficult. Surely his brother would see that.

One week. The time ticked by slowly and he watched as another sniper was loaded into the truck. It bothered him to the very core. He was the best. Everyone knew it. He forced his hand to still as he watched the truck drive away. The shot was pathetically simple. The recon and work they had done made it so. It rankled him, though, to not be making it himself. But to do so would mean three more weeks of work there for him and... well, Bane had certainly discovered a way to ensure he came home when ordered.

He boarded his own truck, relaying final orders to Kojo who waved him on in amusement.

"Everything will be fine here. Go. Give him my regards."

Barsad bristled at the presumptuousness there, the small twitch to Kojo's lips. He ordered the driver to go with a silent wave of his hand. From the truck, he transferred to train, watching the world rush by as he held his small rucksack over his lap, his rifle nestled in her case by his side. He reluctantly parted ways with her during the domestic flight, only comfortable doing so because the man to whom he handed her knew it would be his head if even her case was scratched when she was smuggled to him several days later.

_________________________

Bane was not angry. He was, however, growing impatient. Not with Barsad, but with the plane and what seemed like endless delays. The domesticity of the ritual did amuse him, though, to be waiting at a commercial airport to pick up his lamb. Finally, he saw a flash of red in the crowds, a scarf wrapped up high over Barsad's mouth to protect from the nipping cold and the light flakes of snow drifting down. Barsad walking briskly towards the car with his bag slung over his shoulder. The passenger door clicked open and Barsad slid in beside him. Instead of looking over, his eyes fixed ahead on the road.

"Will you let me explain myself?" he asked, and Bane was unsurprised that it was spoken before a hello.

"Of course." He had wondered why he had not received his phone call, of course, and knew it would be addressed once Barsad was home.

Barsad glanced over as Bane pulled the car out of the parking spot, his gaze flickering forward again, studying the road.

"The satellite phone was taken from camp that evening without my knowledge. I had every intention to call you." There was a tone of wary wistfulness to his voice, a clear hope that his explanation would be enough, that Bane would not give the punishment he whispered out into the phone. His entire body was rigid in the seat.

Bane thought quietly for a moment before he nodded. The quiet nod was caught and there was a relieved slump to Barsad's shoulders.

"And the phone was gone the rest of the week?"

Barsad's shoulders snapped back up into tightness at the simple question.

"No."

"I see."

"You think I should have called you another day."

"Do you not think that would have been wise?"

"I did not think to." It was honest, Bane knew him well enough to know that. "I... I did what you wished of me that night. I thought it would be enough."

Bane worked hard to not let his breathing betray him. He certainly had not expected that, and a flash of desire curled down his spine at such earnest loyalty, the image of Barsad laid out alone in his cot and fingering himself in an effort to please him. Still...

"Let's go to dinner," he said suddenly, the abrupt topic change enough that Barsad finally twisted in the seat to look at him in surprise.

"I am hardly dressed for it." His hands went to his worn coat, his stained trousers before he finally tugged down his scarf. “And I need a shave.”

"There is a change of your clothing in the trunk. You will simply be a little shaggy."

Barsad looked at him sharply and then slumped into his seat. "I cannot decide if you are angry with me."

"Not angry. I have not decided what we will do about this, yet. I do know that I have missed you, that we have not seen each other in two months, and that sharing a meal sounds pleasant. We will put the rest on hold for now."

It was clear that his answer displeased Barsad. He was not doing it to prolong things. He truly had not decided yet, and they both needed to eat. When he pulled into another parking lot, he shifted into park and leaned over suddenly, catching Barsad up by his scarf and pulling him close with the material curled between his fingers, dropping kisses across his mouth, his own lips feeling the shaggy growth there and brushing against it fondly.

Barsad sighed and Bane felt how his body sunk down against the car door, his arms snaking around his body before it loosened for him.

“I missed you.” It was murmured breathlessly between kisses, lidded blue eyes gazing at him with a fierce sincerity.

Bane kissed him again in approval, his hand cupping his cheek, cherishing being able to hold him again. It was rare missions kept them apart anymore, and this had been the first in some time. A voice whispered to him that they were growing far too sentimental for one another, but it was easily ignored in favor of another kiss, of Barsad's tongue boldly flicking between his lips.

“We could go back to the apartment.” It was a breathless, tantalizing suggestion in his ear. Bane chuckled deeply at it, patting his hip and ignoring the disappointed noise when he slid back into his seat, lips tingling from kisses.

“You need a meal in your belly, first.”

“Fine.” Barsad sounded disgruntled, but he soon was over it once he had changed into cleaner clothes in the backseat, settled down into a private corner of the restaurant with Bane to be served up steaming bowls of beef pho. Barsad sipped the savory broth contently, sighing as the warmth took away the chill in the air. Bane watched quietly, eating his own soup and seeing how Barsad slowly seemed to thaw for him, more than simply from a bowl of hot soup. He relaxed slowly, the work behind him and Bane's presence beginning to take precedence. He leaned in more as he ate, and when he reached to snatch up a summer roll it was no accident that his hand brushed at and lingered on Bane's.

Bane let their fingers curl together for a passing moment, chuckling when Barsad's feet were suddenly in his lap, stretched out under the table and clad only his socks, his boots toed off with a practiced ease. He squeezed one lightly, seeing the small, secretive smile on Barsad's lips as they finished their meals and shared bites a sticky sweet rice with mangoes.


	3. Chapter 3

Back in the car, Barsad was relaxed still, clearly wanting to be closer, his body leaning towards him as they drove to the small apartment that they had been set up in, a place to be between missions that was unobtrusive. Walking up the narrow stairs, Barsad's shoulder brushed against his own more than once, and once they were inside, he was treated to a warm armful of his lamb sidling up to him, wrapping around him and breathlessly demanding kisses.

“So affectionate for me.” Bane pressed him back against the door, feeling the shiver in his body as he squeezed his hips, encouraged him to drop his bag to be taken care of later. A noise of loss left him when Bane pulled back and his lamb followed, tangling up in him as they fell back on the couch together, Bane's hands gripping the backs of his thighs, groaning when Barsad nuzzled against his neck, brushing his beard against the sensitive column of his throat. Barsad was rarely so comfortably sweet and tender, not when he was unbound, and when he whispered it as such into his ear he was surprised to see how Barsad seemed nearly bashful, hiding his face against his chest as he mouthed at the thin material.

“Stop,” he muttered, quiet, embarrassed, a shudder making his fingers bite into Bane's shoulders when he reached to cup and fondle him, feeling the stiff plastic in his own grip.

"How can I when you are being so sweet? Like a pup happy to see his master?"

"You will shut up."

Bane chuckled deeply and maneuvered them so that Barsad was under him, pinned down onto the couch and already reaching up for him as if it was a great loss not to be touching. He peeled his shirt up slowly, studying his skin, tanner then when he had last tasted it, flushed nicely. When Barsad reached for his own in turn, he stripped it for him, a content breath leaving him as quick fingers touched over him eagerly.

"Be careful, lamb. I like how skin-hungry this has made you, how open and affectionate. It is hardly making me wish to release you."

A sad noise bubbled past Barsad's lips, and Bane swallowed it up with a kiss, hooking an arm under his thighs, another across his back. He lifted him up to get them to the bedroom faster, an action that usually got him hit, scratched. Yes, he did like this, indeed, how Barsad's eyes were open a little wider as he let him drop down onto the bed and climbed over him.

"Show me."

His fingers scrambled for his pants buttons before he stilled. "Will you take it off?" His tone was cautious.

"Do not worry about that for now."

"Easy for you to say. It has been months."

"Then you will survive the night."

"The night?" Barsad's breath caught and it was as close to a pleading look as his brother ever gave. Bane squeezed his wrists gently, coaxing him until he rolled his pants down his hips, helping to tug them from his ankles and toss them over the edge of the bed. 

He pet over his thighs, sighed contently at the soft noises that left Barsad's lips, how his entire body seemed to curl up into his touch. He was so responsive, each dip of his fingers into his muscles, every swirl of his fingers was received with bitten lips to stifle sounds, with fingers holding on tight to the bed sheets. He tapped his fingers over the thick plastic that contained Barsad for him, marveling at how docile and pliant his lamb had become with the months of being constrained. 

The touch seemed to undo him, his hips jerking up towards Bane's fingers. "Bane, brother, please. Please."

"Begging me, lamb?"

Barsad shook his head quickly. "No, no, it is just… please take it off."

"Not yet. I want to see what I could only hear before."

"Wha—BANE." He tried to roll away quickly, a desperate maneuver. Bane caught his hips and rolled him back.

"Behave, and you have my word I will release you tonight."

Barsad cursed, eyes tightly clenched shut before he nodded quickly. "Please, not too much."

Bane did his best not to chuckle in slight pity at the thought.

It was one thing to hear the beautiful sounds Barsad had made over a scratchy satellite reception, it was another entirely to see him twist on the sheets, his mouth dropping open while deep, wanting moans were pulled from him, his entire body flushed and red. He writhed towards and away from Bane's slicked fingers, unable to decide which was a greater torture. His own breathing was heavy, dark desire pooling in his belly, his cock twitching eagerly in his pants.

"Beautiful." He growled it in Barsad's ear, feeling how he shuddered under him. "I need you, lamb. Let me have you."

"T-take it off."

"After."

He guided Barsad onto his hands and knees. There was begging then, quiet pleas that if Barsad were more coherent for, he would slit Bane's throat for ever witnessing.

He waited for them to die down before he spoke. "If you cannot endure it you only have to tell me no, lamb." He kissed over his shoulder blades, knowing he had his brother caught up, too proud, too stubborn to ever admit that this was too much for him to handle, trusting Bane enough now to stop the game himself if it went too far. Bane knew his lamb's limits now, just how hard he could press, and this, this he could take. He would take.

Barsad sobbed out his name when he pressed forward into him, opened for him so perfectly, biting down into the meat of his forearm to muffle the obscene noises that were spilling from his lips. Bane had to hear them for himself, take them for his own. He yanked at his hair, forcing his head up, for his cries to be heard as he fucked into him deeply, smooth thrusts that had Barsad's tight heat clinging to him so sweetly.

He settled him onto his knees alone, growled against his shoulders as he held him close. "You do not understand, I think. You think you were the only one to abstain? The last time I spilled was deep inside of my lamb."

Barsad's breath sucked in sharply, a surprised noise then. "Y-You?"

"I waited for you, too, lamb. I always do." He turned Barsad's head, forced it back as he held his cheek and took a heated, messy kiss for himself as he rocked in faster, Barsad's moans of pleasure jolting through his body with each thrust.

"Not—not like this, then," Barsad pleaded, and Bane thought he was begging for the cage's removal again, but no, he twisted in his arms further to look into his eyes imploringly. "On my back, let me hold you, please."

They switched quickly. Bane was reluctant to leave him for even a moment, but eager to have him laid out, holding his arms up willingly, wanting to be filled and taken by him even as his cock stayed constrained. He touched over it as he breeched him again, a surprised noise leaving him when he felt the wetness there. Barsad shook his head, seeming embarrassed, limbs tangling around him, knees hooked to his sides and beckoning for him to take.

He took. He watched all of the pleasure and frustration written on his lamb's features, how his pupils were blown and wild, how he began to arch his hips up, hunting for more. Then Bane saw it, how when he thrust just right, striking his prostate with a rough push, Barsad's fingers would dig deep into his back, and a pulse of come would dribble from his slit, leaking out of the cage.

"Look at you." His own voice sounded raw, in awe of everything his lamb could and would give him. "Leaking for me, making such a filthy mess of yourself for me, wanting me so much," he taunted, not cruelly, fondly, fingers gathering it up onto his fingertips, tasting it for himself. Barsad grunted at the sight, twisting under him, hips pressing up insistently. 

"Please, please, let me feel you." He was hoarse, and the open need there made Bane splinter to pieces, crush him down into the mattress and snarl against his ear, working himself into his lamb as deeply as he could, pleasure racing through his body as he spilled into Barsad, claiming him inside and out after so long a separation. He whispered praise after his breath came back to him, feeling the strain trembling through Barsad's body under him.

"So good, lamb. You were so good," he promised, placed gentle kisses across his chin and throat as he did. Bane watched himself drip out of him, looking perfectly debauched and content with Bane's pleasure, a trail of come smeared against his thighs, his own milked out from the long denial and then steady stimulation to his prostate. He knew he should release him then, try to gain him his own orgasm as reward.

But the way he was holding onto him now, the content noises, how he grabbed demandingly at him to be held and coddled… It was Barsad as he had him only after a long, hard tie, and the idea of having him loose and as such, well, he could not resist. He murmured in sympathy at the uncertain noise his lamb made when he sank a pair of fingers inside of him, feeling his own come dripping out and smearing over his knuckles.

It was easier with his fingers, to crook them and give a good rub to his prostate. Barsad gave a shocked yelp, body near spasming as he pinned his hip.

"BANE!"

"Just a little more, lamb, look at yourself." He was leaking out again, a fresh pulse dripping out.

"Please, I just want to come." He scrubbed his hands over his face, frustration welling up, hiding his face in embarrassment at his body's wanton actions.

"You are, though," Bane soothed. “Watch with me, just a little more and I will take it off, and it won't need to go on again until the next mission you take.”

Barsad froze at that, the underlying promise there that this was certainly not a once and done event. His lamb had sealed his own fate, too sweet and needy from this for Bane to ever consider not doing it again. His eyes flickered down, watching uncertainly as Bane pressed his fingers, milked his prostate and sent deep shudders through him as he emptied him, satisfied when he simply had no more to give.

"Good... Good. Well done." Barsad's lips quirked up, spent from pleasing him and demanding to be cleaned up and held. Bane laughed quietly, "Let me unlock you first."

It was done with little ceremony. He simply pulled the key from the chain around his neck, unlocking the device and easing him out, smiling at the contented sigh the actions received. He touched over his cock, two fingers gently stroking down the shaft. Barsad curled gratefully up into the touch at first before his brow furrowed and he made a frustrated noise.

"What have you done to me? You broke me," he accused, exhaustion making it come out as an upset slur. Bane had to work not to laugh, kissing him gently.

"I think I milked you dry, lamb. You won't be coming tonight even unlocked for me."

"That's not fair. You did this on purpose. I want to come."

"In the morning," Bane reassured, petting his chest until the petulant look left him and he settled for being cleaned, for burrowing as deeply into Bane's arms as feasible. 

"It is good to be home. Even if you are cruel." It was muttered with his fingers curling with Bane's, and the biggest of yawns that had him rubbing his beard against his chest. Bane found it easy to agree, happy that home had come back to him.


End file.
